Archive of Our Own

Any way to face the silence,
Any way to face the pain that kills you.
Your smile, shine a little light, alright?
Don't hide, shine a little light,
Give up on your pride.
- Syntax, "Pride"

 

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
March 17, 2008
21:43

It's St. Patrick's day, which is like fucking Christmas in Beantown. I should be at The Beehive. Or rocking out to Dropkick Murphys. Or really, and more likely, sitting in my apartment getting drunk off green beer. Some Corona with food coloring in it, and a lime, maybe. No, definitely a lime. Corona tastes like ass without lime.

Instead, I'm on a plane. Which means I'm already pissed off. No "Mile High Club" fantasies for this chick, nuh-uh. If I make it out of this iron tube alive, I'll have myself a real good orgasm once I'm back on solid ground. So the big bad Slayer's afraid of flying. Big deal. How smart is it really, to put yourself inside thousands of pounds of heavy metal (and I'm not talking Iron Maiden here), thousands of feet in the air, with thousands of pounds worth of other people, and a pilot who's probably been drinking since sunrise? If Red was speaking to me, I could have just asked for a teleport. Either way I end up tired, disoriented, and puking for awhile.

So why am I on a plane on Saint Patrick's Day, instead of getting drunk and pulling my top off 'cause I'm so trashed I think it's Mardi Gras? Because Giles is a son of a bitch, that's why.

It's gotten to the point where when he talks to me, he sounds kinda like the adults in those Charlie Brown cartoons. Waah-waah. In other words, I completely tune him out until he says something that interests me. This time it was something about.. a coven? A demon? Possibly a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick-maker?

So I'm being sent somewhere to do something, but it's pretty hard to concentrate when I'm worried about plunging out of the sky at a billion miles an hour. And there's an old fat guy with really, really bad breath drooling all over himself right next to me.

The pilot announces that if we look out our windows, below we can see some igneous rock formations. I don't know what those are, but it sounds like something that planes crash into, exploding and killing everyone inside.

I check my watch. Only three more hours until landing. I wonder if there's a limit on how many barf bags you're entitled to.

Rome, Italy
March 18, 2008
06:11

I feel like everything I saw
Is being swept away
When I refuse to let you go.
- Muse, "Map of the Problematique"

"There she was, just a-walking down the street, singing doo-wah-diddy, diddy-dum, diddy-do.." The alarm clock is blasting. I know this, but I can't move. I think I've only been asleep for an hour, and I'm pretty pissed about it. A way-too-awake voice starts talking over the music. I try to make it disappear using telepathy, but no joy.

"It's time to rise and shine, morning glory."

I hate you.

"I brought bagels."

I wish I'd brought a gun.

"I have coffee."

I half-open one eye. "Doo-wah." Andrew smiles brightly and sets a cardboard cup down on the nightstand. "If it's got milk in it, I'm going back to sleep."

"It's black with ten packets of sugar, just like you asked for, Senorita Grumpypants."

I force myself to roll over onto my back and thank god that he didn't open the curtains. "Signorina. Senorita's Spanish."

"Potato, tomato." I smile a little despite myself. It's not his fault that I couldn't sleep on the flight. He's just doing what Giles asked him to. Which is apparently to baby-sit me until Buffy takes over.

Yeah. I'm pretty sure Giles forgot to mention that. That, I think I would have remembered. Apparently, you can't just walk inside this castle that's become Slayer Central, so Buffy's sending a car or a mule or something to get me. I thought it was a little weird, coming across.. however many countries it is.. instead of flying directly there, but Andrew explained that Europe's so small, it's kind of like crossing a couple of states instead of countries. He also explained that the flights in and out of the U.K. are being watched by some people who want to take out the Slayer line, and with me and Buffy being the top rung on that ladder..

Probably best that I'm chilling in Italy right now. I'm so exhausted, I'd probably offer to shoot myself before anyone else could even try.

I let out a yawn and pick up the coffee, guzzling the whole thing in one gulp. I check around for more, but there doesn't seem to be any; just Andrew frowning at me. "What?"

He shrugs. "I thought that much sugar might have had an effect on you. Heart attack, Diabetic coma.. The whole thing was incredibly anticlimactic for me."

"Sorry I didn't give you a climax."

His face pales a little and takes on a green hue. "Gross." I finally slide out of bed and he takes it as his cue to leave. Which is good, since I was in desperate need of a shower twelve hours ago. Now I'm just short of being condemned by the Board of Health.

I've probably been in the shower twenty minutes or so when he comes knocking on the door. "If the hotel isn't burning down, I'm going to shoot you. I swear to god." There's a slight hesitation as if he's considering his options, and then he knocks again. I growl and reach outside the curtain, chucking the mini bottle of shampoo at the door. "Fuck a duck, Andrew! What the hell do you want?"

The door opens a few inches, letting in a chilly breeze, and a slightly gravelly voice says "It's not Andrew."

I pull back the curtain, because I can't believe it's actually her, and she freezes at the sight of me. It's really cold in here now, and being a girl, and a perverted one at that, I have to work hard to not think of Buffy as a deer in MY headlights. "You're, uh.. you're naked." She's trying not to look at my chest, in all it's cold-induced, hard-nippled glory, and doing a pretty miserable job of it.

I scowl. "Did you think I showered in mukluks and a parka?"

To my amusement, she actually looks sheepish as she mumbles an apology and ducks out. Imaginary scoreboard time. Faith: 1, Buffy: 0.

I get a slightly weird satisfaction out of Buffy's obvious discomfort when I walk out of the bathroom in my towel to get dressed. Even as hotel towels go, it's small, so I know she sees my ass when I bend over to dig out some clothes. I can feel her staring, but it's alright. I have a nice ass.

I finish getting dressed and sit in the stray armchair since Queen Buffy's taken it upon herself to sit on the bed.

"So.."

I raise an eyebrow. "You called me here, you showed up and burst in on me in the shower, and you're expecting me to open the conversation?"

She blushes and I add another tally to my score. "Well, I just.. this Twilight thing. Giles filled you in, right?" I nod. "I think it's going to be big, so I figured we need all the firepower we can get. You're a big gun, so.."

I light a cigarette and to her credit she only wrinkles her nose instead of gagging loudly. I give her a point for that. "Four million Slayers under your command, and you want me?"

"Five hundred, actually. I mean--five hundred that work with me. About twelve hundred more that we know about, but don't work with us. Right now I've got about three hundred in various teams around the world, and two hundred at the compound."

"Those are some.. impressive statistics, really. But even with only two hundred aboard the mother ship, why do you need me?"

"They're green. Really green. Leah, Rowena, and Satsu are the best I have, and they're still not as good as we are. Vi, Rona, and Caridad are the most experienced I have, and they're still not as good. We've been doing it longer and better than anyone else, and whether I like it or not, I need you."

"Do you?"

She looks confused. "What?"

"Like it. That you need me."

"Is that even relevant?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I stand up and flick my ash on the carpet, which makes her wince. "Because I have a right to know. You're coming to me, and asking me for help, and I don't think it's so crazy that I want to know where we're standing. Are you asking me to help because it's the only way you're going to win, or are you asking me for help because you respect me and trust me as an ally?"

She looks uncomfortable. One more point in my favor. "I don't.. I don't NOT respect you or trust you."

"So.. you don't trust me, but you don't not trust me?" She nods. "Then.. what do you feel about me?"

"Honestly? I don't. I don't feel anything, or think anything." She lowers her voice. "It's been a long time, Faith. I can't feel anything about someone that I.."

I tighten my grip on the cigarette. "That you what?"

When she answers, her voice is sad, and her response hits me like a knife to the gut. Again. "That I don't even know."

Just outside Bern, Switzerland
March 18, 2008
10:32

I've grown to see the philosophy of my own mistrust,
We all have our faults;
Mine come in waves that you turn to rust.
- Starsailor, "Some of Us"

We've been driving in silence for hours. I don't know why I agreed to come. I don't know why I didn't tell her to fuck off and then head back to America. I probably could have been back in Boston in time for last call.

Maybe because I have an overdeveloped sense of duty these days. Maybe because I'm still trying to get her approval. Maybe because she had a point, and that's not necessarily a bad thing.

So Buffy doesn't know me. It's not news, really. She hasn't known me for a long time. And if you want to get technical about it, she never really did. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though. I always thought she understood me. That she knew what it was like to be different. But how could she? She had a mother, and a sister, and friends. She had a clean house, a bed to sleep in, and plenty of food. I'm not saying her life's been a big ball of rainbows, but how could someone like her ever understand the burden of being white trash, the lowest of the low?

I finally break the silence. "Do you want to?"

She doesn't take her eyes off the road, and her knuckles are turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. "Want to what?"

"Know me. You said you didn't. Back at the hotel. Do you want to, or are we just.. I mean, is this it? Just business?"

She digs her nails into the leather cover on the steering wheel. "Do we seriously need to talk about this now? When I'm sitting on the wrong side of the car that's driving down the wrong side of the road, and all the signs are in.. whatever the hell language they're in that isn't English?"

"I think it's German. And you're supposed to be on the right-hand side. And, yes. I want to talk about it now."

She scowls, loosening her grip only slightly. "Left. It's always left in Europe. They're all backwards here."

"No, right side, B. They drive on the right in Switzerland. And you're going above the speed limit."

"I can't read the signs." She's getting frustrated. "I don't speak German."

"Me, either, but I can read numbers. It says 50. You're doing 58."

I'm expecting her to blow up, to punch me, to scream at me. Instead, she pulls off the side of the road and slows to a stop before turning the car off. I'm getting nervous until she rests her forehead on the steering wheel, wraps her arms around her head, and starts shaking lightly.

"Are you okay? You're not.. having a seizure or something, are you?" She shakes her head a little, and I catch sight of the tears running down her cheeks, and get immediately uncomfortable. I can handle blood and guts, and being punched in the face, but crying is definitely not my thing, so I sit quietly for a few minutes. Sometimes you just have to let it out, and who am I to interrupt her big emotional vomit session? I weigh my options, decide against getting out of the car and reach over to pat her back a little instead.

"You uh.. you wanna talk about it?" God, I hope not. I'm not good at this, not at all.

"It's just.. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I thought I'd be free one day, y'know?" She lifts her tear-streaked face, looking out the windshield. "Not have to do all this. But it's worse now than it ever was. I'm not free, and I never will be. This is.. it. This is all I am. Slaying. Demons and vampire wolves and giant sisters and vindictive witches who cast spells on me and try to remove my best friend's eyes. It was really, really not supposed to be this way. I was going to quit, retire, whatever. Dawn was going to go to UCLA, and Xander was gonna make a lot of money and get married and I was gonna.. I don't know. I feel like I don't even know how to dream anymore."

She heaves a huge sigh, calming down a little. "Everything has always been about trying to be normal. I just wanted to go to college, and get a job, and marry some guy I was madly in love with, or at least that I could stand to be with for fifty years. I wanted kids. I wanted to bring them home to my mom--" she shudders a little and starts crying again. "Or at least be there for Dawn's kids. I just wanted.. I wanted.."

"A life," I supply.

After a few silent moments, she nods a little. "Yeah. That's it." She lowers her voice to a whisper. "I just wanted a life."

Schloßgarten
Karlsruhe, Germany
March 18, 2008
14:06

And I believe in reinvention;
Do you believe that life is holding the clue?
Take away all the lonely moments.
Give me full communication with you.
- Syntax, "Pride"

The car felt so much smaller after Buffy's panic attack that we could only drive for awhile before we both needed some air. So here, we are just walking and breathing. I always pictured Germany as damp and drab, the way they show it in old war movies. But it's actually sunny and kind of pretty.

We head north into the woods. Buffy pets a stray dog and I find a quarter, which I think is pretty cool, considering we're in a country that doesn't use quarters. After about twenty minutes, we sit on a fallen tree and I shift the quarter back and forth in my fingers, reflecting the sun off Buffy's red t-shirt until she gets annoyed and swats my hand.

"What?" I ask, as innocently as I can.

She raises an eyebrow. "What am I, stupid? You were doing that on purpose."

"Doing what?"

"Making the light shine on my boob." I start laughing, just cause she sounds so indignant. She just rolls her eyes and leans back a little, closing her eyes against the sun. "It's not just business."

I pause while lighting my cigarette. "What?"

"What you said earlier. It's not just business with us. It's never been just business. I hated you when you first came to Sunnydale." I frown, because this is not what I want to hear. Not at all. "I was going through a really rough time, and I had just gotten everything in my life back. And it felt.. it felt like you were trying to take that away from me." I open my mouth and she puts her hand up to stop me. "I know now it wasn't like that, but that's how it felt at the time. I needed my mom and my sister and my friends and Giles, and suddenly I had to share them with you.

"I don't think it's a great idea to get into everything that happened, but I did like you, once upon a time. Then things happened and I didn't anymore. And now.. I don't know how I feel. I want to like you, but I'm scared to give us another chance. We always seem to screw up." She pauses, looking at me. "Why are you smirking like that?"

"You said we, and us. You've never said that about any of our issues before."

She shrugs. "I guess things change."

"I guess they do," I answer thoughtfully.

We're both quiet for awhile. Then she sits up and turns sideways on the log, facing me. "Tell me something about you."

"What? What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Anything. Just tell me something."

Okay, I officially don't like this game. "Um.. I like pizza."

She rolls her eyes. "Tell me something real. Something I don't already know."

"Uh.. I don't know. I don't have any cute anecdotes about my life or anything." I pull out another cigarette nervously and light it. "If there's something you wanna know, just ask."

She thinks about it. "What was your most embarrassing moment?"

That's an easy one. "First day of kindergarten. We all had to introduce ourselves. I stood up and opened my mouth, but I was so scared that I just peed myself and started to cry instead."

"Aw," her face softens, and she sighs a little. "I was about thirteen, and we'd gone to this water park. My bathing suit was a little small on me 'cause I'd just started getting a chest, you know? Anyway, I'm standing at the top of this huge slide, and these older boys were just staring at me, and when I looked down I realized that my breast had popped out. I wanted to die." I try to stifle my laughter, and I guess I do a shitty job of it. "It's not funny!" Then she starts laughing as well, and I don't feel so bad. "Okay, you ask me something now."

I think about it a little. "Tell me.. about your first time."

"Still a pervert, Faith." I grin. "Okay, okay. Um.. it was Angel. On my seventeenth birthday. We were soaking wet from the rain, and things just.. kind of happened. Then I woke up alone, and the next time I saw him.." Her forehead wrinkles. "He was just.. different. He was being a real jerk, telling me how bad I was.."

"Jesus. No wonder you're such a prude."

"I'm not a prude! Anyway, tell me about your first time."

I falter for a minute. I hadn't thought about her asking me. "How about a different question?"

"No way! You heard my terrible story, let's hear yours now."

I sigh and lean my head forward a little, debating whether to lie to her, but then I remember that that's how things got fucked in the first place. Lying.

"I, uh.. I don't remember his name." She raises an eyebrow, but thankfully stays quiet. This is hard enough to talk about without a commentary. "This guy my mom was seeing before she hooked up with Gable. Real loser."

"How old were you?" she asks softly, all of the amusement gone from her voice.

"I dunno. Eight? Nine, maybe."

She quietly reaches over and pries the burnt-out cigarette from my fingers, tossing it onto the ground. "That doesn't count."

"What?" I ask, horrified.

She shakes her head. "That's not.. sex. Sex is.. different. It's an expression of good feelings that two people have for each other. That? That was.. just a terrible, bad thing that shouldn't have happened." I try to hide the fact that she's pretty much making me cry, and I guess it doesn't work very well because she reaches over and wipes a tear off my cheek. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed."

"No. No, it's okay. I've never told anyone that. Felt kinda good to say it." She smiles a little. "I really need a drink. Wasn't there a bar back there?"

"Beer garden," she says, standing up and stretching.

"Sounds good to me."

Beer Garden
Karlsruhe, Germany
March 18, 2008
16:42

"Oh, my god! This is nasty," she giggles loudly, and a few people give her dirty looks. "What is it?"

I grin. I might not be the smartest knife in the drawer or whatever, but I know my alcohol. "Los Amigos, baby. Beer with lemon and tequila flavor."

"It tastes like rat pee!"

"You're drunk."

"I'm not drunk. You--you're drunk." Yeah, sure. I'm the drunk one. That's why I'm sitting quietly and enjoying my Hoepfner while she insists on drinking Jägermeister. "This is gross," she declares as she takes another sip of her third shot.

"Because you're not supposed to sip it, B."

"Show me," she demands, pushing the shot glass over to me. I obediently do the shot, wincing a little. Jäger's not really my thing. I'm more of a Jack Daniels girl. Plus I've had two beers already, and nothing good has ever come of drinking beer before liquor. She grins and pulls my beer away from me and sips it. "I think I'm drunk."

"You think?"

She nods, starting to slur her words. "I shouldn't drive.. S'bad. Maybe.. maybe we can sleep in the woods. They're so pretty."

I stand up and go around to the other side of the picnic table. "Come on, ya lush. Let's go." She nods before laying her head down on the table, so I just pick her up and drape her arm across my shoulders and start walking until she gets the idea and starts moving her feet, too.

"What're--hic--where we goin'?"

"The car. I can drive, yunno. I'm not totally useless."

"Usheless.. that'sh a funny word.. Ushless.. Ush.." She gives up and just starts laughing.

For a long time I thought Buffy just needed a few stiff drinks and she's be able to unwind and stop being such a tightass. But drunk Buffy isn't nearly as fun to be around as I thought she'd be. She's actually kind of annoying, and I consider dumping her by the side of the Rhine and stealing the car, but then I feel bad for even thinking about it after the afternoon we've had.

I help her into the car and get in on the driver's side. I wasn't lying, I can drive. Just not legally. I start the car and test out the pedals, trying to get a feel for it.

Oh. Great. It's a stick. Well.. how hard can it be?

Within five minutes of my jerky driving, B starts looking pretty green. "Why're you doin' that?" I downshift, and her head lolls to the side a little. "You're pretty."

I roll my eyes and try to concentrate on the road. "Thanks."

She sits up a little and points at me. "No, no. You're like, really pretty. You're prettier than Satsu."

"What's a Satsu?"

She giggles. "Satsu's.. a girl. But you're more pretty."

I locate the signal and turn it on, switching lanes to go around some old guy in a Citroën. "I didn't know you thought girls were pretty, B."

"Pfsh.. Lots of girls are pretty. I'm pretty." She flips the mirror down and looks in it, poking at her face. "I'm pretty, right?"

"Yeah, B." I change lanes again, and her face turns even greener. "Are you gonna boot or something?"

"No. But I might puke."

I glance in the rearview mirror and shift again, starting to pull off the road. "Well, try not to puke in the car." I stop the car and get out, opening her door. She leans out, breathing in deeply.

"Satsu said I was pretty when we kissed. You think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're drunk."

"I can't be both?" she asks, just before she upchucks all over my shoes. "Sorry."

I'm feeling a little green myself now. "It's fine. I'll burn them later."

She groans. "I don't feel so good." Me either. "I don't feel pretty anymore." Probably because there's puke on your shirt. "I'm tired."

I sigh and tuck her back into the seat, closing the door and getting back in the driver's side. I kick off my shoes and they're just too gross to keep, so I leave them on the grass and hope I don't get arrested for driving barefoot or something.

We drive for a long time before she opens her eyes and looks around. "Where are we?"

I glance up at the first road sign I've seen in awhile. "Almost to Gdansk."

She looks confused, and then worried. "Where's Gdansk?"

"Uh.. Poland?"

"Poland? We're in Poland?"

"No, we're in Berlin. Poland's over there." I point.

"This is.. not where we're supposed to be." She looks green again. "We're supposed to be in Amsterdam." She reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a map that she starts searching frantically.

"How far apart are they?"

"Faith! Like four hundred miles!"

Oops.

Kima Hotel
Charlottenburg District
Berlin, Germany
March 18, 2008
23:13

I've pretty much been quiet since we decided to get a hotel in Berlin for the night. I know Buffy's pissed and I don't want to add to it by pointing out that it's basically her fault we're 400 miles out of our way. If she hadn't gotten drunk, we could be in Amsterdam right now.

At least the room is nice, and they offer room service. All I know is that Buffy better not decide to get all weird on me, because there's only one bed and I'm not sleeping on the floor. I've never been this tired in my life. And my feet hurt from the shoes we picked up. I have nothing against thongs, but I'm used to them being on my ass, not my feet.

I walk in ahead of her and go to flop onto the bed. "Wait!"

I groan. "What?"

"You're dirty."

"It's not like you have to do the laundry, B."

She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "No, but I have to sleep with--" she blushes. "Next to you. And I don't want you dirtying up the bed."

"I hate you." She shrugs and I groan again, limping over to the bathroom and slamming the door shut behind me.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I think to myself as I shower as fast as possible. Hate, hate, hate. I've gotten about four hours of sleep in the last three days. I want to cry.

I finish up quickly and pull on a pair of underwear and a tanktop, the only clean clothes I have in my duffel, and walk out, still rubbing my hair.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Buffy is sprawled across the entire bed, dirty clothes and pukey breath, out cold.

"I hate you," I tell her sleeping form, which doesn't respond. I lay down on the edge of the bed and curl up with my head under the pillow.

Kima Hotel
Charlottenburg District
Berlin, Germany
March 19, 2008
10:17

"I love you."

Buffy smiles, looking up from a huge tray of food. She ordered room service. There's food. Lots of food. I don't recognize some of it, but I'm so hungry that I don't care.

After we finish eating every crumb off every plate, we both sit back and rest our hands on our stomachs.

"What, uh.. what happened with Satsu?"

Her head whips around like I shot her. "What do you mean?"

I shift a little and sit back. "Yesterday, when you were drunk. You said something about kissing Satsu."

She turns bright red and shakes her head. "It's not really important." I raise a brow. "It's not. Satsu's just.. someone I hooked up with."

"Hooked up? You just.. hooked up with a chick?"

She shrugs, obviously uncomfortable. "You haven't? I thought all the cool kids were into that."

I scowl and sit up. "So, what? You hooked up with a girl because bisexuality is the new pink or something?"

"It wasn't.. wasn't like that. She's sweet, and she likes me. And I.. yunno. I like her. I don't love her or anything. It just.. happened."

I feel pissed and I'm not really sure why. I feel like there's all this emotion bundled up inside of me and I'm either going to explode or I'm going to hit her. "It just happened?"

She frowns. "Yeah. It just happened. Things.. happen. Have you been in love with everyone you've ever had sex with?"

"No. But you're not.. you're not like me."

"Maybe I am," she says quietly.

I stand up and cross my arms. "No, you're not."

"You don't know that!" she says, obviously pissed as she stands up. "I could be. I could be a big slut and sleep with anything on two legs, and wear leather and be 'five by five' all the time!"

My face burns and I want to reach out, to grab, to strangle until she stops talking. "I'm not a slut just because I enjoy sex!"

"No, you're a slut because you enjoy it with everyone!" I reach out and punch her in the jaw before I can stop myself. She stands still, holding her cheek.

We stay that way, staring at each other silently for several minutes. Why is it always fight or flight between us? Why can't we sit and have a conversation like two normal, decent people? We're both standing here, practically panting in our fury, sizing each other up.

I reach out and she flinches, thinking I'm going to hit her again but instead I grab her shoulders and pull her close, kissing her hard. She kisses me back just as hungrily, running her tongue over my lips until I part them and pull her closer, crushing my body against hers.

I expected resistence, protest maybe, but she wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her hips against mine and moaning. My brain is telling me stop, no, this isn't going to end well, but I have other organs that are more persistant, and I slide my hands down to grab her ass as she pushes me back onto the bed and falls on top of me.

I'm sliding my hand over her side when it happens.

I break the kiss and let out the most rip-roaring, window-rattling burp I've ever heard in my life. Her eyes go wide and we stare at each other for a few nerve-racking moments before we crack up.

"Oh, my god. That was disgusting, Faith," she snorts, rolling off me to the side.

I give her a lopsided grin. "Felt wicked, though. Maybe next time you won't throw yourself on my stomach after I've eaten half a cow's worth of bacon."

She laughs even harder. "Bacon comes from pigs. Like you."

I nudge her shoulder. "If I'm a pig, maybe you shoul--"

"Say it and I'll punch you in the nose."

I give her my best innocent look. "I was just going to say you should build me a sty."

She rolls onto her back and covers her face with her hands. "I can't believe we just.."

I blow a raspberry. "What are you, kidding me? That's been coming for years, babe."

"Has not."

"Has so."

"Not."

"So."

She shakes her head and sighs heavily, dropping her arms. "You really think so?" I nod. "Did you know?"

"Not really. I mean.. I knew how I felt, what with me being me and all. But I didn't think you'd ever go for it."

"Why?" She frowns. "Cause I'm a big old prude?"

"Pretty much."

"You're such a--"

"Slut?" I supply helpfully.

Her face falls a little and she looks away from me. "I didn't mean that. It's not like I'm gonna be wearing white to my wedding or something. I shouldn't.. I shouldn't have said that. It was a shitty thing to say, and I'm sorry."

I shrug. "Been called worse."

Buffy rolls onto her side and rests her head on my shoulder, draping her arm over my waist. "That was.. the best kiss I've had in a long time."

"I've had a lot of practice." I give her a smirk to show I'm cool with what happened, but she frowns.

"Don't say that. It makes me feel bad about what I said."

"We're cool, B. I swear."

She watches me for awhile before smiling lightly and nodding. "Okay. We're cool." She pauses. "I really did ask you to come to help out with things."

"I know."

"I'm not gonna get all clingy and talk about marriage or something."

"I know."

"And I'm not going to get jealous if you have.. other people.. in your life."

"I know."

"And you won't do any of those things to me, right?"

"Right."

"So we can have sex, and not have to buy a house together?"

I roll over onto my side to face her and prop my head up on my elbow. "Lots of sex. No houses neccessary."

She slides her hand lightly over my stomach, pushing my tanktop up a little and tracing her fingers over my navel. I sigh lightly, stretching my arm out and resting my head against it. "You're really smooth," she says softly, moving her hand over my hip.

"You have no idea."

Her eyebrow raises, but she continues running her hand over my body. Usually at this point I'd be jumping her bones, but it's kind of sweet that she's exploring like that, and it feels good. So I keep my mouth shut.

"I don't know.. I mean.. I think I've got the basics down. I know some stuff, but I haven't exactly gotten a lot of practice in."

"You can practice on me all you want." I smile and she runs her nails lightly over my side, causing me to shiver.

"Have you ever.. yunno. Done it with a girl before?" I shake my head. I've made out with chicks, but it never went further than a little bit of groping in the bathroom of a club or something. "You haven't?" She brightens at this. "So it's kind of like.. I'm more experienced than you are with this?"

I roll my eyes. "You make it sound like I'm all virginal and innocent or something."

"Let's find out," she says, sounding more confident than before, and pushes me on my back, sliding her knee between my thighs and pressing into me.

This is going to be a really, really good day..

Undated Journal Entry

I almost didn't get on that plane, but something in me pulled me to her and wouldn't let me give up, no matter how bitter I was about our past.

I guess in the end, none of it really matters. Not the fighting, the jealousy, the violence. You can't ever change the past. You can't take back the terrible things you said or the mistakes you made. And if you carry it around with you, that's all you'll ever be. The person that said and did those things. But if you can leave that person behind, if you can forget about the time she stabbed you, or when you slept with her boyfriend, or how much you hate each other, maybe you can start new.

Some people never change, because it's not easy to walk away from things that hurt you or people that took advantage of you. But if you can; if you can find it in your heart to forgive what was done to you and allow yourself to be forgiven; if you can walk away from your pride? It's like going to sleep in a storm and waking up in the sun.

I'm not going to fool myself into thinking that we'll be together forever; that we're going to get married, have kids, and buy a house in the suburbs. But if all we get out of each other is a few months' worth of nice nights, that's a lot more than most people get.

- Faith